Dreaming Old Dreams
by LittleFlatts
Summary: Per Barney's request, Molly goes to check on an AWOL Gunnar. Drunk out of his mind, he tells her the story of his one great love.
1. Chapter 1

The summer night was heavy with the aftermath of the rain. Mosquitoes flitted about annoyingly, cicadas trilled, and the frogs croaked.

Molly fanned herself. Sweat made her gray tank top cling to her skin. She hadn't had any intention of leaving her air conditioned house that day. It was too damn hot. But Barney had called her. There had been an underlying concern in his voice. Molly wouldn't describe it as panicked. Barney Ross didn't _do_ panic. He was too level headed.

Gunnar had dropped off the radar after the last mission. Barney wanted to know if she would go check on him. At that point, Molly had asked, rather impatiently, "Why don't you do it?"

Barney had replied, with infinite patience, "Because he's not going to want to talk to me."

Molly had wanted to ask what had happened on the last mission, but she didn't. She wasn't part of the team anymore. Knowing what they were doing would only make her yearn for the days that were past.

"Alright. Fine."

* * *

It took her forty five minutes to reach the swampy bayou, where Gunnar lived in a shoddy shack straight out of a horror film.

"Gunnar," she pounded her fist on the door. There was no response, but his truck was parked in the front. "Gunnar, come on, it's fucking hot out here."

Molly opened the door. A box fan was running in one corner, filling the room with a hot breeze. There was an old, musty couch and a small refrigerator in the main room. Off to the left, there was a kitchen with barely enough room to move. Through the kitchen was a small closet that passed as a bedroom.

"What are you doing here?" his words were slurred. He was sitting in the doorway to the bathroom, a bottle of Grey Goose sitting limply in his hand. Molly carefully stepped over an old pizza box and sat on the unfinished wood floor.

"Barney's worried. You've been radio silent for the last week," Molly said, wiping sweat from her brow. _And we all know what happened last time_. That part went unsaid. They both remembered the solitude and surliness that had led up to the explosion during the Vilena job.

"I'm clean," Gunnar told her bluntly. Molly nodded.

"I know." He wouldn't go back to it, not after what Barney had done to him, after what he had nearly done to Yang.

"I'm alive, Little Wolf, go home," he said, taking another belligerent swig of vodka. Molly frowned deeply at him.

He wore a pair of holey jeans and a stained white t shirt. His prominent brow was shiny with perspiration.

"What happened?" she asked gently. His watery blue eyes met her clear brown ones.

"You remember when you and Billy fought? I took you to the hospital for that concussion?"

Molly blinked in surprise. That night was rather blurred in her memory. She didn't try too hard to remember it.

"Yeah," she crossed her legs Indian style and let her hands rest in her lap.

"You asked me if I had ever been in love…" Gunnar trailed off. Molly frowned. _"It was just stupid college bullshit,"_ his voice rang clearly in her head.

"Yes," she nodded.

"I saw her face," he told her. "We were running around Belfast. Rough part of town. And, there she was, in a bakery window."

"You saw your old girlfriend on the last mission?" Molly's brows shot up. Gunnar shook his head and took another long drink without wincing. Molly cringed. If he was too far gone to taste the vodka, it was pretty damn serious.

"No. This girl. She was about thirty years too young. Same red hair, same green eyes…"

"What was her name?" Molly asked gently.

"Alice Donaghue," Gunnar sighed, an unfamiliar hint of sadness to his voice.

* * *

 _January 12_ _th_ _, 1976_

 _Boston, Massachusetts_

Gunnar nearly slid on the icy sidewalk. Snow was piled halfway up the store fronts. The streets were not overly crowded this early in the morning. He ducked into the diner. There were a few people eating their breakfast and reading the morning paper.

"Gunnar," Mrs. McLellan was a woman with silver hair and expressive dark eyes. It was well known that her Irish roots protected her from the gang that ran the block.

Housing was cheap in the Irish neighborhood, off campus. It was all Gunnar could afford, even with his scholarship.

"Mrs. McLellan," he eased onto a barstool. She poured him a cup of coffee.

"You look tired," she noted sternly. Gunnar rubbed the back of his neck. Mrs. McLellan reminded him, almost uncomfortably, of his own mother, still back in Sweden. "When was the last time you slept?"

It was hard to sleep here. The noise was almost deafening. Car backfiring, people shouting, guns going off.

The bell over the door jangled and Mrs. McLellan looked up, surprise flashing over her face.

"Oh, Alice, dear, you look awful." Another mug was filled with coffee. A young woman with a head full of vivid red hair that, if Gunnar was being honest, was closer to orange than red, sat down.

Snow was melting on her black pea coat. She grimaced deeply and wrapped her hands around the coffee mug.

"I heard a horrible ruckus last night. Was anybody hurt?" Mrs. McLellan asked in a hushed voice.

Iridescent green eyes lifted and rested suspiciously on Gunnar. He colored and looked down at his black coffee.

"Connor got bruised up, but nothin' serious," she had a thick, Boston accent. She pronounced Connor like _Kan-nah_.

"They need to start keeping you home," Mrs. McLellan said, frowning deeply. The red headed woman reached for the sugar. Her knuckles were busted and scabbed over. Gunnar forced himself to look away.

"Ah'm fine. Ya worry too much," she sniffed. Mrs. McLellen clucked disapprovingly, but said no more.

* * *

 _Present Day_

 _New Orleans, Lousiana_

"So, she was your true love?" Molly's voice was heavy with sarcasm. Gunnar scoffed. He had moved to his couch. Molly was busying herself with tidying his house. Two garbage bags already sat by the front door. The windows were pried open to let some of the slightly cooler night air in.

"Nah, I don't believe in that bullshit," he took another drink of vodka, "I don't know why I'm telling you this," he mused. Molly's face softened as she surveyed him.

"What happened to her?"

Gunnar bowed his head, supporting it with one deeply wrinkled hand.

"She died."


	2. Chapter 2

_April 7_ _th_ _, 1976_

 _Boston, Massachusetts_

Gunnar jogged to get out of the sudden downpour. He lifted his jacket to try to shield himself from the icy drops.

"Afraid ya gonna melt?" Gunnar had seen the woman a few times at the diner. Her hair was pulled into a low ponytail. The light smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks were more prominent today. A cigarette dangled between her lips. He had no response. His cheeks heated up and he lowered his eyes. "Cat got'ya tongue?" she raised a brow.

He tried to smile at her, but it came out as more of a grimace. She grinned at him and with practiced ease, flicked her cigarette to the ground. She dug her heel into it.

"Alice Donaghue," she offered him her hand. Her knuckles were bruised purple. He shook it firmly. His own hand nearly dwarfed hers.

"Gunnar J-Jensen," he said awkwardly. She smirked up at him.

"Nice ta meet'ya. Where ya headin' in such a rush?" she wondered idly, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her pea coat.

"Library," he rumbled. Alice tilted her head, her green eyes never leaving his.

"Why would ya wanna go there?"

"I need to use the typewriter," he was starting to get flustered.

"For what?"

"You sure ask a lot of questions!" he groused. She grinned like the Cheshire cat.

"Ya one'a those geniuses or somethin'?" she pressed. Gunnar blushed again and looked down at his feet.

"I go to MIT," he said bashfully. She let out a low whistle.

"What'cha studyin'?" Alice asked curiously.

"Chemical engineering," he admitted. She blinked a few times.

"Typewriters at the library don' work for shit. I got one at home," and then she was off, walking unflinchingly through the rain.

Gunnar had no idea what he was supposed to do, so he followed her.

* * *

Her home was a third floor apartment in a rougher building than he lived in. The apartment was not very tidy. Clothes were strewn everywhere, mixing with empty beer bottles. Alice hung up her coat and took his from him.

"Come on," she said darkly, kicking objects from her path as she went.

Her door was second on the left. The room was small and Spartan. There was a desk large enough for an old typewriter to sit on, a narrow bed with a granny square blanket, and a chest of drawers.

Alice kicked off her shoes and tugged the blankets up on her bed so it was sort of sloppily made. She dropped onto it and picked up a paperback.

"Paper is in the drawer," she drawled, already engrossed in the story. Awkwardly, Gunnar maneuvered his large frame into the tiny chair, folding his legs carefully under the short desk. He dug through his knapsack for his chemistry book.

The only noise in the room was the slow clacking of the typewriter, and the occasional turn of the pages. Gunnar had glanced over at Alice more than once, trying to see if he could read anything in her expression, but she was completely ignoring him.

She couldn't have been older than him by more than a few months.

It was after supper time when he leaned back in the chair, flexing his hands. Alice's eyes flickered up.

"Ya done?" she eyed the stack of papers beside him.

"Yeah," he said slowly, "Thank you."

"No problem. Come on, I'll walk ya home. Streets ain't safe after dark," she told him as she yanked her shoes back on. Gunnar frowned. He was a 6' 5'' Swedish giant. Alice was at least a foot shorter.

"And they're safe for you?" he asked as he followed her out of her room. She sent him a narrow eyed look as she passed him his coat.

"I know these streets like the back'a my hand. The fellas 'round here know me, too. You're just ripe pickin's for 'em, though."

Gunnar frowned deeply.

* * *

The sun had not quite finished its descent as they moved through the streets. Lee had her hood up, covering her hair. An unlit cigarette was clasped loosely between her lips and her hands were shoved into her pockets.

Gunnar soon became uncomfortable with the silence.

"You lived here your whole life?" he glanced down at her. She met his eyes.

"Born and bred," she nodded, "Where you from anyway?"

"Stockholm," he said. At her quizzical look, he elaborated. "Sweden." Alice's brows shot up.

"Why the hell would ya wanna come here?" she scoffed derisively.

"Good school. Scholarship," Gunnar shrugged. Alice shook her head, not looking at him. The sound of garbage cans crashing together made him freeze. Alice bit out a curse and glanced behind them.

"Gah-damn it. It's those fucking King Street boys. How far's ya home?"

"Up ahead," Gunnar was starting to feel adrenaline surging through his veins. Alice took his hand and started to run.

He heard shouts behind them, but he didn't stop as they made it to his apartment building. Gunnar led the way up the steps and to the second floor. His hands trembled as he unlocked the door.

As soon as the door was once again bolted, Alice started to laugh. He blinked at her.

"Nothin' like a chase, Gunnar," she informed him. He liked the way she pronounced his name. Gunn _ah_.

Alice ambled over to the window and looked down at the street.

"They're still out there. Ya gotta phone?"

"Kitchen," he pointed as he kicked off his shoes. She went in there. It wasn't hard for him to overhear her half od the conversation.

"Connor, I ain't gonna be home for a while…. 'Cause of the fuckin' King Street boys, that's why!...I'm with a friend…No one ya'd know…. See ya tomorra."

"This place got a back door?" she wondered to Gunnar. He looked up at her, feeling guilty for eavesdropping.

"Yeah… You can stay here, though."

He immediately started blushing at her raised brow.

"I can take the couch," he was babbling now, "I didn't mean it like that, I mean, you let me use your typewriter and—"

"No need ta get all worked up, sweetheart, couch will be fine. Thank ya."

Gunnar left her in the living room to go and see what kind of food he had in his fridge. It was sparse.

The only thing he really had any ingredients for was grilled cheese.

"Ya alright?" Alice was leaning in the doorframe, arms folded over her chest. He shut the fridge door quickly. She raised a brow at him.

"I, uh, don't have much to eat," he admitted, blushing. Her eyes softened.

"Ya don't need ta feed me. I'm imposin' enough."

"Do you like grilled cheese?" he asked helplessly. She smiled. It wasn't a smirk or one of those too amused grins, it was an Honest to God smile.

"Love 'em.

They laughed and talked over grilled cheese and spaghettios as the King Street boys were chased away by the onslaught of rain.

* * *

 _Present Day_

 _New Orleans, Louisiana_

"Wait, hang on, I thought she died," Molly was sitting at the opposite end of the couch now, a paper plate with reheated pizza in her lap.

"Not for a while," Gunnar shook his head. He had sobered up a bit.

"Jesus Christ. How long had you two been together?"

"What do you mean by together?" Gunnar hesitated. Molly's brows knitted together as she looked at him. "I slept with her a few days later."

Her jaw dropped.

" _What_?"

"We were sleeping together for a couple weeks before she actually went steady with me," Gunnar admitted. Molly shook her head.

"And what did her gang think of this? Connor and the others?"

"I didn't meet them for a while. She didn't get along with them. Her brothers ran the block. They were some messed up assholes."

"Was Alice part of it all?"

"She was in charge of the protection fees. Each business on the block had to pay the 8th Street gang to keep the other gangs off the turf and out of their hair. Alice had to go and get the money. Problem was, not everybody wanted to pay it. If she had to come back with her brothers, hell would break loose."


	3. Chapter 3

_May 30_ _th_ _, 1976_

 _Boston, Massachusetts_

Gunnar had gotten a job working in a chemistry lab for the summer. Boston was beginning to heat up. The days were muggy and hot.

He had just gotten home and kicked off his shoes when there was a sharp rap at his door. Grumbling a few expletives that he had picked up from Alice, he went and unlocked the door.

Alice stood there stiffly, one hand pressed to her side.

"Jesus," he stood aside to let her in. Her left eye was swelled shut, there was a darkening bruise on the opposite cheek, and both lips had been busted open.

"Hey, Gunnar," she greeted casually.

"What _happened_?" he asked, shutting the door.

"Eh, some uppity asshole decided he didn't wanna pay up. Had a few friends there. Connor and Jimmy'll go tomorrow and shake it outta him," she brushed him off.

"Hey, come on, let me look," he gripped her chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilted her head up to the light.

Her green eyes met his steadily. She was so unbothered by this, it made Gunnar's gut churn.

"I'll live," she said softly, her cool breath on his face. He leaned down to kiss her softly. Her lips tasted coppery.

* * *

The next morning, Gunnar was making eggs in the kitchen, wearing his jeans from the night before. Alice came up behind him, wearing his t shirt and nothing else. She wrapped her arms around him from behind and pressed a kiss onto his shoulder blade.

"Smells good," she said against his skin. He rumbled in assent.

"Made coffee," he jerked his chin towards the corner. Alice released her hold on him and shuffled to the cupboard to get a mug out. She filled her mug and then topped Gunnar's off.

"What time do you work today?" she wondered as she sipped her coffee.

"Eleven. You have anything to do?" he wondered as he put the eggs on a plate.

"Gotta call my brothers, let 'em know 'bout Mister Zitti."

Gunnar was about to respond when somebody began to pound on the door. Alice stiffened, flexing her perpetually bruised fists. She was always getting into more fights before they could completely heal.

"I'll get it," Gunnar said, turning off the stove. Alice pulled out two forks as he left the kitchen.

Two thugs were standing in his doorway. One had dark red hair, the other was more of a strawberry blond. Both had murky green-brown eyes and a stocky build.

"Can I help you?" Gunnar folded his arms across his chest.

"Looking for our baby sister. You're the guy she's been fucking, right?"

Gunnar scowled deeply at the strawberry blonde and was about to make a smart ass comment back, but Alice chose that moment to appear.

"Gah-damn it, Conn-ah!" Alice spat, two spots of red coloring her pale cheeks.

"Ah, Jesus, Ali, put some fucking pants on," the strawberry blonde covered his eyes. Alice glared.

"What the fuck are you two doin' here?" Her accent got thicker as she came to stand by Gunnar.

"Lookin' for you," the darker haired one, who could only be Jimmy, spoke more softly, but there was something dangerous in his eyes. "Ya didn't come home last night."

"I don't come home a lott'a nights. Ya never been worried before," she said venomously.

"Well, most nights, ya aren't making collections on the Italian block," Connor snapped.

"If ya were so gah-damn worried, maybe ya should've sent me some back up. I _told_ ya Zitti was bein' stubborn. Now, ya wanna tell me why ya know where my boyfriend lives?"

Gunnar never wanted Alice to be looking at him the way she was looking at her brothers. Even dressed in just a t shirt, with her orange hair tumbling down her back, she was scary as fuck.

"Come on, Ali Cat, ya think we didn't start payin' attention once you started stayin' out all night?" Connor scoffed.

"It's none of ya damn business. Why don't ya go get Zitti's money and take it to Sullivan?"

"Why don't ya put some pants on?" Connor shot back. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"Enough," Jimmy cut in, his voice still soft, "Ya should've called us, Alice."

"Ya shouldn't have the boys followin' me around," she said, her voice just as even.

"Alright, fine, no more. Should we expect you tonight?" Jimmy's eyes flashed. Alice folded her arms across her chest.

"I'll be home for supper," she said firmly.

"Alright."

Jimmy gave Gunnar one last lingering look before he turned on his heel. Connor shook his head before following.

* * *

 _Present Day,_

 _New Orleans, Louisiana_

"That was it?" Molly's brows had shot up, "No shake down or anything?"

Gunnar let out a rumbling laugh and took a sip of his beer.

"Naw. It came later. I was walking home from work and they were waiting for me. Gave me the usual, 'break her heart, I'll break your legs.' It was a lot scarier when I was nineteen," Gunnar mused thoughtfully. Molly pursed her lips.

"So… She died. What about the Disco dancer? How did you go from quiet, chemical engineer at MIT to gun toting mercenary?" Molly knew she was toeing a dangerous line. There were some things you just didn't ask somebody.

Gunnar took another long drink of his beer before eyeing the bottle of vodka across the room.

"Shelly, the Disco girl, came after Alice…I was in a bad way, spiraling out of control. Quitting MIT seemed like a good idea, and when I had to tell everybody why, I used Shelly as an excuse. Alice… She was always tough, you know?"

Molly nodded once. She did know.

"Her younger brother, Sean, he got mowed down by the Italian gang... Connor called me to tell me, and I went over. She had punched a hole in her bedroom wall. She screamed herself hoarse that night, but she never shed a tear. She thought it was weak… When she died, I didn't want to cry…" Gunnar spoke very haltingly, thinking carefully on every word, "I didn't want to disgrace her memory like that."

Molly leaned forward and clasped his hand in her own.


	4. Chapter 4

_July 6_ _th_ _, 1976_

 _Boston Massachusetts_

Alice rolled over on the bed so her back was to him. The bed was too small for her not to be pressed against him, but he felt like there was a mile between them. Her little brother had been buried two weeks ago.

"You wanna talk?" his voice cut through the darkness. He felt her go rigid.

"No," he felt her voice more than he heard it. Gunnar rolled to his side, propping himself up so he could hover over her. He let his free hand drop onto her hip.

"Look, I don't know how to do this," he admitted.

"Then don't," she cut him off. He winced at the sharpness in her voice. She deflated with a sigh. She turned to face him. The room was too dark to see her face. "I'm sorry."

He wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her more snugly against him.

"I'm not sure what to do," he confessed. There was a beat of silence.

"Me neither… I just… I keep expecting to see him, you know? Connor never should have sent him out alone."

Gunnar agreed, but he didn't say so.

"Promise you won't run errands by yourself?" Gunnar rumbled. He felt her hand against his arm. Her fingers were cold.

"I won't," her lips brushed against his collar.

* * *

The next day, Gunnar was mugged on his way home from work. Danny, one of the Eighth Street Boys, found him left for dead in an alley.

He was only semiconscious, and it took two guys to lift him and drag him up to the Donaghues' apartment.

Alice was as white as a sheet as he was set down on the couch. There was a fresh split in her lips.

"When did that happen?" he tried to ask as he lifted a hand to cup her face, but all that came out was a garbled slur of words.

"Christ Above," her hands were cold as she tilted his head to look at him closely. Connor moved behind her and she took a warm rag from him.

Carefully, Alice began to wash his face. "What happened, Gunnar?" she asked.

"Found him passed out in the alley," Danny offered. He was a young kid, maybe seventeen. Gunnar could feel Alice's hands shaking.

Somebody started pounding on the door and Alice was up and off the couch in an instant, fists twitching.

"We don't need his bullshit right now," she hissed to Jimmy.

"What do you want me to do, Alice?" Jimmy demanded. Connor hesitated by the door until Jimmy gave him a curt nod.

Gunnar watched as a tall, dark haired man in his mid thirties came in wearing a Hawaiian shirt and Bermuda shorts.

"Sully," Jimmy greeted in a clipped voice.

"Jimbo, Connor," he had a deep, baritone. Pale eyes came to rest on Gunnar. Alice still stood in front of him protectively. "Miss Alice. Word has it, you're playing house with a genius. This wouldn't be him, would it?"

"It is," she said stiffly.

"Hmm. Never thought I'd see the day. What happened? He piss you off?"

Alice sneered at the man.

"'Talians," Gunnar managed to slur out. Alice whirled to kneel in front of him, her green eyes burning with worry.

"King Street," Connor seethed, "Call the boys, Danny."

"I'm taking you home," Alice tried, unsuccessfully to lift Gunnar to his feet.

"If ya think I'm lettin' my baby sister run around with those fucking Italians on the loose, you're dead wrong!" Jimmy snarled in a rare show of temper. "You and Gunnar are gonna sit here and stay out of trouble!"

* * *

 _Present Day_

 _New Orleans, Louisiana_

"That was the start of a war," Gunnar shook his head. It had started to rain again. The drops pounded deafeningly on his tin roof.

"Jesus," Molly shook her head.

"It lasted the whole summer. Sullivan worked out a sort of peace when the fall term started up, but it wasn't the same. Both sides lost people. Nobody went anywhere on their own. Alice would come with Danny and meet me on campus. We would walk back to the neighborhood together. She started carrying this nasty ass .45 cal. It was a dangerous time to live in Boston."

"Nobody felt safe anymore. Connor and Jimmy got protective of Alice. They didn't let her run collections. She felt pretty goddamn useless. Sullivan gave her a job bartending in his joint. It was steady pay, but she hated it."

* * *

 _September 4_ _th_ _, 1976_

 _Boston, Massachusetts_

Gunnar waited patiently at the end of the bar. There was a glass of Coke in front of him, but it had gone flat. Alice's red hair was falling out of her ponytail. Sweat shone on her brow. She looked pale and washed out in the dim light of the bar, and the shadows under her eyes were more prominent.

She wore a short sleeved black t shirt tucked into a pair of faded jeans. She got off in five minutes.

The bar smelled heavily of cigarette smoke and stale beer. There was a steady hum of conversation, but it wasn't deafening.

Most of the patrons were Sullivan's street men, waiting to talk to their boss. Sullivan himself had a private room with glass windows so he could watch the bar from his desk. Sometimes, the blinds would be pulled down.

"Hey, Alice," here was one of Sullivan's body guards. A man with a balding patch on the back of his head. He always smelled too strongly of cologne.

"What's up, Frank?" Alice asked wearily, tossing her towel down after drying her hands.

"Bossman wants a bottle of Jameson and a few glasses. Hey, kid," Frank nodded once to Gunnar. The Swede nodded back.

"Alright, then I'm heading out," she warned as she set a tray on the bar. Gunnar watched as she got up on a stool to reach the whiskey on the top shelf. The hem of her shirt rode up as she reached, revealing pale skin.

* * *

"I hate this city," she said as Gunnar unlocked his apartment. He let her step inside and followed, locking the door behind him. Alice shrugged out of her coat and pulled out her hair band.

Her orange hair tumbled to her shoulders. She ran a hand through it. Gunnar caught it and turned her around so he could peer down at her face. Alice leaned into him.

"We should leave," she murmured. Gunnar frowned. "This city is no good."

"Where would we go?" he rumbled. She looked up at him and flashed him a sad smile.

"Sweden?" she suggested.

Gunnar kissed her.

"Got your passport?" he wondered, knowing it was just idle fantasy. Neither of them could actually leave. He had a scholarship, and she would never leave her brothers.

"Nah. Never been out of the state," she shook her head. "What's Sweden like?"

"Cold," he grinned.

That night, after she showered, they laid in bed, and he spoke of his home. He hadn't seen his mother in over a year. After he had turned nineteen, he had served seven months mandatory military service, guarding a prison.

"My dad wanted me to stay military for the rest of my life," he admitted, "But I got the scholarship, and there was no reason not to take it."

* * *

 _Present Day_

 _New Orleans, Louisiana_

"Did you eventually go back to Swedish military?" Molly wondered. The crickets and frogs sang their song outside the open window. It had cooled down considerably.

It was nearing eleven PM. Billy and Barney had both sent her texts. She had reassured Barney that Gunnar was fine, and told Billy she would be home later.

"Yeah, not until about 1980, though. I stayed in the States for a while."

"Why?" Molly couldn't quite wrap her head around it. When bad things went down, when she lost people close to her, she would high tail it to some place that wouldn't give her reminders.

Gunnar shrugged one shoulder.

"Didn't know what else to do."


	5. Chapter 5

_Present Day_

 _New Orleans, Louisiana_

"She died in January," Gunnar said, offering Molly a fresh beer. She looked up at him, pity burning in her eyes. "We were going to leave, you know? As soon as the school year was over, I was going to transfer back to Sweden. Her brothers were pissed."

"She was going to leave everything?" Molly questioned. There had never been that deep, passionate, thrill of the moment love for her. Falling in love with Billy had been slow and steady. What Gunnar had had with Alice was tumultuous, at best.

"She was the best woman I ever knew. She loved me. She was going to leave it all, so we would be safe."

* * *

 _November 25th, 1976_

 _Boston, Massachusetts_

"Stop sulkin'," Alice griped as she slammed a bowl of mashed potatoes down too hard on the table. Connor sneered at her.

"'Happy Thanksgiving, darling brothers, I'm moving out to be with my boyfriend!'" Connor adopted a high, falsetto voice that was supposed to pass for his younger sister's.

Gunnar sat awkwardly where Sean used to, hands folded in his lap.

"Shut the fuck up, ya dipshit," Alice slapped the back of his head, "It's not fucking like that, alright? He's gonna finish up the school year. You'll have me around until mid April. Five months, _at least_."

"That's not the goddamn point, Ali! Ya barely know this asshole! Now you're moving out of the country with him?" Connor fumed.

"Watch ya mouth, Connor. I like Gunnar a lot more'n I like you," Alice warned as she sat primly next to Gunnar.

"Enough, Con, let's just enjoy the meal, 'kay?" Jimmy cut across the two of them. Connor seethed in silence, tearing apart a roll viciously.

They were only halfway through the pie when there was a heavy pounding on the door.

"Jimmy! Open up!"

"Christ, is that Pat?" Connor flung the door open. Patrick Connelly was covered in blood. "Mother of God, what's happened?" Connor demanded.

"Frank's in the hospital. Italians put a hit out on Sullivan," Pat said breathlessly.

"What about his goddamn treaty?" Jimmy snarled.

"I don't know!" Pat wailed, "Alls I know is to gather all the street bosses and bring 'em in."

"Where?" Connor snapped.

"The bar," Pat said breathlessly. Jimmy snatched up his coat and jerked his arms through it.

"Jimmy—" Alice started.

"Not a word, Ali. You and Gunnar stay here," Jimmy said, tossing Connor his own coat. Alice bit her lower lip, her arms were folded around herself. Gunnar stood behind her, one of his large hands gripping her shoulder.

* * *

Alice paced the apartment like an angry panther, alternating between running her hands through her hair and tugging at the hem of her shirt.

Gunnar sat on the couch and watched her with sober eyes.

There was a distant crash of thunder and Alice stiffened, her radioactive green eyes darting to the window. She leaped over the coffee table, narrowly missing a pile of dirty laundry, and pressed her nose to the glass.

Gunnar followed at a more wary pace.

Black smoke was rising against the white sky and solemn gray buildings.

"Christ," she breathed. Gunnar's stomach felt like a ball of lead. Alice sprinted towards the door and wrenched it open before vanishing from sight. Gunnar grabbed her coat and his own before following her down the steps.

People were staggering around when they turned to corner. Gunnar nearly crashed into her she stopped so quickly.

"Mother of God," she breathed, her eyes darting around the scene. Snow had started to gently fall onto the bodies that lay strewn across the block.

The black smoke was billowing from the gaping hole in the bar. Glass sparkled on the sidewalk, among the white flakes of snow.

"Jimmy!" she shouted. Gunnar's eyes jumped to a staggering man with reddish hair. He was being supported by a strawberry blonde. He started towards them, yanking on Alice's coat. She followed, stumbling.

Alice threw herself at her older brother, cupping his face in her bruised hands, trying to examine him. Blood dripped from his brow and ears.

"Are you two alright?" she demanded breathlessly.

"Fine. We weren't in the bar. You seen Sullivan?" Connor looked around. Alice instinctively looked around.

"No. Christ. You need to go to the hospital," Alice said, running a hand through her fiery hair.

"I'm fine," Jimmy's word slurred. Alice glared hard at her big brother.

"Shut the fuck up, Jimmy. Let's sit him down," she ducked under Jimmy's other arm and helped him over to the nearest set of stairs. Gunnar danced uncomfortably on the edges, unsure of what to do.

"Run to Mrs. McLellan's, Gunnar, get towels, first aid kit, call nine-one-one," Alice said, her breath turning to a puff of white in front of her.

Gunnar pulled his black cap down further over his ears and nodded. He began to jog down the block. The diner was just around the corner.

The old woman was nearly stricken. She fluttered around like an anxious hen as he spoke lowly into the phone mounted on her wall. By the time the operator had assured him that it had been reported and help was on the way, she had gathered up her clean towels and rags.

"Be careful, Gunnar," she told him worriedly before he ducked back out into the cold.

It did not look so much like a grisly battlefield by the time he returned. Alice and a few other late coming gang members had gathered up the injured and pulled them over to the steps where Jimmy was sitting, his eyes closed.

Alice offered him a quick, tight smile before taking a towel and pressing it to Patrick's head.

"Sullivan's on his way from the hospital. Frank is stable," she told him briefly before moving on.

"Jimmy gonna be ok?" Gunnar asked. Her green eyes flitted over her big brother before returning to the man in front of her.

"He's got a concussion, I think he hurt his ribs when the blast knocked him on his ass—" The rest of her words were swallowed by sirens.

* * *

Gunnar stood with his arm wrapped tightly around Alice. The sky had gotten steadily darker. The injured had been taken away, and the police were still interviewing those at the scene.

Alice had given her statement curtly. The police had been as equally brusque. Gunnar sort of understood. Nobody wanted to be out investigating a mob related crime on Thanksgiving. Sullivan had followed his men back to the hospital.

"Come on, let's get outta here," Gunnar rumbled, tugging her away from the flashing lights.

* * *

A few hours later, she was curled into his side, the arms of their uncomfortable hospital chairs jammed between them.

He was almost positive she was asleep, but he couldn't be sure.

Sullivan approached silently, his face gaunt and pale, hands jammed into his pockets. His gaze rested briefly on Alice.

"She been sleeping long?" he asked quietly. Gunnar shook his head silently.

"How're Jimmy and Connor?" he hadn't seen them since the paramedics loaded them into one of the many ambulances.

"Staying for observation. They're both fine," Sullivan said wearily as he dropped into a chair across from Gunnar. "I've got a car coming. It'll take you home. Once you get back to the apartment, sit tight. I'll send Jimmy and Connor home in the morning."

Gunnar found himself nodding. He shifted the arm that Alice was sleeping on. Her breathing changed and she lifted her head. Her eyes were rimmed with red and bleary.

"They ok?" she asked, her voice husky with sleep.

"The boys are fine, Ali, Gunnar is going to take you back to the apartment. Perry is going to stay with you. I'll send Connor and Jimmy home once they get outta here, ok?" Sullivan broke in. Alice nodded once, rubbing her tired eyes.

She hung her coat up on the tree after she stepped into the apartment. Gunnar flicked the lights on.

The meal was still spread out on the small table. She began to pack away the dishes mechanically. The food was cold.

"Come on, we can do this tomorrow," he tried to catch one of her shaking hands. Her green eyes locked with his blue ones. "Let's go to bed," he entreated.

"I can't," she said numbly. Gunnar hugged her.

* * *

 _New Orleans, Louisiana_

 _Present Day_

"Connor and Jimmy came home the next morning and their apartment became the new base," Gunnar and Molly had moved out to the front porch. Moths were fluttering around the porch light. Gunnar was smoking a Lucky Strike at one end while Molly sat at the other, trying to avoid inhaling the smoke.

"Alice hated it," he confessed. "We started spending a lot of time at my place. I would study and she would just sit there. She would stop and get books from the library, but she never returned them. After she died, I took them all back. I wanted to burn them. I didn't want any reminder of her."

Molly felt her heart breaking for the hundredth time that night. She would never have guessed it about Gunnar.

"She would just sit in the corner. There would be stacks of books around her, and every time she would try to get up, she would always knock one over…"

Gunnar's eyes were shiny when he looked up at Molly.

"It was never supposed to be like this, Molly."


	6. Chapter 6

**_A/N: I do apologize. I know there's no real excuse for putting this story on hiatus for almost a year. I started college and it kind of sucked all the life out of me. I'm going to try and finish this story sometime this week. Thank you for all of your patience. Much love!_**

* * *

 _December 23_ _rd_ _, 1976_

 _Boston, Massachusetts_

Gunnar tugged on one of Alice's curls absentmindedly as he scanned his textbook. The words were beginning to blur together. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. They had been in her room for the last two hours.

When Sullivan had arrived, unannounced, with about twelve other street boys, Jimmy and Connor and promptly banished them from the living room.

The heater was broken in Gunnar's apartment, so they had just moved into Alice's narrow bedroom.

The voices had gotten increasingly louder. Gunnar could pick Connor's out of the din. Alice slammed her paperback shut and tossed it carelessly to the floor with a huff.

"Wanna get out of here?" she asked gruffly, sitting up.

"To where?" Gunnar glanced at her window. The sky was dark. Nobody went out much after dark anymore. She sighed heavily as she rose from her narrow bed. She undid her belt clasp and slid her holster onto it.

Gunnar watched as she jammed the magazine into her lethal black handgun and flicked the safety on before sliding it into the holster.

"Ya coming?" she asked belligerently. Gunnar marked his page and set his textbook at the foot of her bed before standing.

* * *

The living room stunk heavily of smoke as they stepped out of her bedroom. Somebody had cracked a window and the cold December wind was filling the room.

"The fuck d'ya think you're going?" Connor drawled.

Gunnar looked up and was pinned with the looks of several mobsters. Sullivan blew out a ring of smoke. He resisted the urge to take a step back.

"Out," Alice said curtly, sliding her arms into her jacket sleeves.

"Not right now you're not!" Connor stood, flicking his ash out the open window.

"Ya gonna drag me to my room and lock me in there, Con?" she asked, reaching for the door knob. Connor slammed the door shut as she opened it.

"They planted a fucking bomb in the bar, Alice! Ya think they're not gonna go after you 'cause you're a girl?"

"I think staying locked up in the apartment is showing them that we're too weak to retaliate," Alice spat. "Ya've been arguing for the last two goddamn hours. Gunnar and I are going down to Mrs. McLellan's to get supper."

"Let her go, Con," Sullivan spoke around his cigar. Connor's head whipped around and Alice ducked out of the apartment. "Keep an eye on her, kid," Sullivan told Gunnar.

Gunnar tried to give Connor a reassuring look before following Alice out.

* * *

The moon was clear and bright as they walked down the block in the general direction of the diner.

"We really going to the diner?" Gunnar rumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets to keep them warm.

"We need to talk," Alice said softly, refusing to look up at him. Her breath formed a white puff in the air.

"About what?" he prompted uneasily, slowing his gait to fit hers.

"We need to stop seein' each other."

Ice shot down his spine. He had not been expecting that.

She looked haggard, even under the soft light of the moon, there were shadows under her eyes from lack of sleep.

"What?" it was all he could formulate.

"Gunnar," she started before her voice broke off. She ran a hand through her red hair furiously. "Things aren't gonna get any better." There was a sort of helplessness to her voice that he had never heard.

"What are you talking about?" Gunnar asked.

"I'm talking about the fact that you've been jumped, and we've run how many times? Jimmy got put in the hospital. What happens when it's you?"

"I'm not scared-" Gunnar began.

"Well you should be!" she cut him off. " _I'm_ scared. I don't know when Pat is going to come and find me to tell me that Jimmy or Connor is dead..." She stopped herself.

"Don't, Alice, please," Gunnar took her arm and forced her to stop walking. They stood facing each other, but she still didn't look at him. He cupped her cold cheek with his hand. Tears sparkled in her eyes. "I'm not scared, Alice. I _love_ you," he said sincerely. Tears spilled down her cheeks.

"I know," her voice cracked. "That's why I need ya to get as far away from this mess as ya can."

"Don't I get a say in this?" Gunnar asked, feeling panic start to creep up from his stomach. He couldn't lose her, not after everything they had been through.

"I don't think so... Look, there are other girls, Gunnar. They're not going to get you killed by walking you home."

"I don't _care_ ," Gunnar stated firmly. "Goddamn it, Alice."

"I don't want to be the reason you end up dead," she stated, pulling away from him.

* * *

 _Present day,_

 _New Orleans, Louisiana_

Gunnar swiped at his face angrily. Molly reached for his arm and squeezed it comfortingly.

"She left me there by the diner. I don't think she really expected me to put up much of a fight," Gunnar remarked caustically. Molly frowned deeply.

"What did you do?" she asked warily.

"Followed her home. Most of the guys had left at that point. It was just Sullivan and her brothers still there. Connor wouldn't let me in the apartment. Said I was lucky he didn't knock my teeth in."

* * *

 _December 23, 1976_

 _Boston, Massachusetts_

"Look, I don't give a fuck what happened, man, but my baby sister has been crying her eyes out since she got home. You're fucking _lucky_ I'm not rearranging your face!" Connor snarled as Jimmy hauled him back.

"Hey, ya wanna shout a little louder, dumbass? Have the neighbors call the cops?" Jimmy asked caustically. Connor shrugged out of his older brother's grip and went back inside.

Jimmy remained in the doorway, his arms folded over his chest. Gunnar broke eye contact first.

"Ya wanna tell me what happened?"

Gunnar ran a hand through his tangled hair.

"She broke up with me. She doesn't want me caught up in this gang mess," Gunnar said angrily. Jimmy cocked a brow at him.

"And that didn't go over well?"

"I'm in this for the long run. I know you don't like me, but I love your sister."

"Alright," Jimmy shrugged, turning back into the house. Gunnar blinked.

"What?"

"I'm not going to kick your ass," Jimmy clarified.

"Can I see Alice?" Gunnar took a step towards the door. Jimmy scoffed.

"No."

The Swede visibly deflated and Jimmy took pity on him. "Look. Just give her the night, ok? I'll try and talk her down."

* * *

Gunnar paced the hallway outside the door for over an hour before sitting against the wall, his long legs stretched out before him. He was asleep when Alice came out onto the landing a few hours later.

She nudged him with her foot. His blue eyes snapped open and took her in. She wore a pair of flannel pajamas and a cardigan over them.

"Come on, you stubborn bastard. Get inside before you freeze your ass off," there was no heat to her words. Gunnar rose on unsteady feet and followed her into the apartment. Sullivan was smoking a cigar on the couch. He winked at Gunnar conspiratorially.

Alice closed the door to her bedroom.

"Look, we both need sleep. So, can we save the conversation for the morning?" she asked numbly.

"Of course," Gunnar agreed. She tried to smile but it came out as more of a grimace.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: thank you to those who reviewed even when I was AWOL. You guys are amazing.**

* * *

 ** _"Put up again thy sword into his place: for all they that take the sword shall perish with the sword." - Matthew 26:52_**

* * *

 _Present Day_

 _New Orleans, Louisiana_

Molly's phone started to ring. Her eyes burned as the white screen illuminated her face. Billy's name flashed across the screen.

"It's Billy," she said apologetically. Gunnar waved off her apologies. She stood and moved out onto the porch.

"Everything ok, Molls?" Billy asked. She rubbed her tired eyes. Her skin smelled like cigarette smoke.

"Yeah, I'm still with Gunnar. He's… He's not in a good spot right now, Kid," she said quietly. She could almost hear Billy's suddenly nervous energy.

"You want me to come out there?" he asked. She sighed and glanced in the grimy window. Gunnar was still sitting on the couch, half empty bottle of beer in his hand.

"No. He's drunk. The last mission fucked with his head," Molly admitted. Billy exhaled slowly.

"Just...Be safe, ok, Molls?"

"Yeah. I'll text you when I'm on my way home. Don't wait up."

Molly headed back inside the shack and dropped down on the opposite end of the couch, hugging one knee to her chest.

"Kid doing ok?" Gunnar rumbled.

"Yeah. He was worried. It's about three AM, big guy," she remarked, looking at the clock on her phone. He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"I'm sorry I kept you so long, Little Wolf," he muttered, "You should go home, to your Kid and Gabriel," he started to rise from the couch. Molly caught his arm firmly.

"I'm not going to leave you here, Gunnar," she told him soberly. He blinked down at her for a moment before settling back in.

"Story's almost over, anyways," he admitted.

* * *

 _January 2_ _nd_ _, 1977_

 _Boston, Massachusetts_

Gunnar's heater was finally fixed. He and Alice had since relocated back to his apartment. Not being surrounded by street bosses every hour of the day left her less tightly wound. The bruises on her knuckles were nearly healed. She had not been sent out on a run for over a month.

Gunnar was inherently grateful that Sullivan had put his foot down after the bar was blown up. Alice was off all things mob related.

"My passport came in the mail this morning," she stated over the laundry she was folding. Gunnar looked up from his book with raised brows. They hadn't talked about Sweden since Thanksgiving.

After she left him in the snow on Christmas Eve, they hadn't talked about too much, really. It had been a state of constant limbo.

"You still want to come with me?" he blurted. She flinched.

"S'pose I deserve that," she murmured, lowering her eyes to the sweater in her hands. Gunnar sat down beside her. She was so small next to him.

"We could leave on the next flight out," he told her. Her head snapped up and her green eyes locked with his blue ones.

"What? What about school? Semester starts in a week," she pointed out. Gunnar shook his head, running a hand through his shaggy blonde hair.

"Fuck it," he said firmly. Her brows shot up.

"What? Gunnar, you have a scholarship—"

"There are schools back in Sweden. I can finish. We can get married, they'll give you your green card more easily, we'll leave as soon as we can," he said. It really wouldn't take him long to pack his things.

"Married?" It was half amusement, half disbelief.

"I love you, Alice. This city is poison. You know it, and I know it. If we stay…" He trailed off.

She chewed on her lower lip.

"Connor and Jimmy'll kill me…" she remarked thoughtfully.

"I'll talk to them," Gunnar promised. A grin split her face. She beamed up at him before kissing him firmly on the mouth. He pulled away reluctantly before standing.

"I was going to wait," he admitted, backing into his room, "But since we're doing this now," he slid his hand under his mattress and found the little box.

Alice gaped as he dropped down next to her.

"I know it's not much. I had my Ma send it to me," he admitted. There was a delicate gold ring with a dark stone.

Alice threw her arms around his neck.

"Oh, Gunnar." He felt dampness on his shoulder.

"Hey, don't cry," he smoothed her hair away from her face.

"I'm sorry," she said. He kissed her softly.

* * *

 _Present Day_

 _New Orleans, Louisiana_

Molly's brows were nearly to her hair line.

"Wow… What did her brothers have to say about it?"

Gunnar let out a grim chuckle.

"Connor tried to deck me."

* * *

 _January 3_ _rd_ _, 1977_

 _Boston, Massachusetts_

"Like fucking hell!"

Gunnar danced back out of the way as Connor lunged forward. Sullivan and Jimmy caught him around the chest.

"Hey, take it easy, Connor," Sullivan warned.

"You think I'm gonna let this fuckhead spirit _my_ baby sister across the fuckin' Atlantic? You're fucking out of your mind, Jensen!"

Gunnar opened his mouth, unsure of what to say. He looked at Jimmy helplessly, hoping for some sort of back up. The eldest Donaghue had always tolerated him better than Connor had. Right now, though, he was wishing that he had taken Alice up on her offer to accompany him.

As it was, though, she was trying to get a marriage license arranged so they could have a justice marry them tomorrow and fly out the next day.

"Hey, calm the fuck down!" Sullivan barked, "You know how fucking dangerous this place is getting. Can't go and get a damn cup of coffee without being harassed."

Connor sulked. He was no longer trying to tear out Gunnar's throat.

"Gunnar's a good kid. You're gonna take care of Ali, aren't you?" Sullivan turned sharp eyes to him.

Gunnar swallowed hard and nodded.

Jimmy opened his mouth to say something, but the phone on the wall started ringing. He gave it an annoyed look before walking three steps across the apartment to answer it.

"Yeah?" The scowl on his face deepened as the caller spoke.

"Sit tight, Ali. We'll be there in five," he hung up and grabbed his coat. "Fucking King Street boys have been tailing Ali. She's in the diner."

* * *

For the rest of his life, Gunnar would never forget what he saw when he turned the block.

The street was still crusted with the white snow that had covered the city the night before, and the sun was watery in the pearly sky.

Mrs. McLellan was being pulled from the diner by a couple of street level thugs. Alice chased out after them, hollering and cussing.

The gunshot cracked across the relative silence of the street and Gunnar felt like his world had been submerged in water. He couldn't hear anything, and everything seemed to slow down.

Ali's black pea coat stood out against her snowy white background. She looked down at her suddenly red blouse.

Several more gunshots erupted, this time from right beside Gunnar. The thugs, seeing Sullivan and the others, took off. Gunnar stumbled forward. She seemed miles away from him.

She was on her knees by the time Gunnar skidded beside her, catching her as she sunk against him. He pressed a hand firmly to her front. The blood was hot on his hand.

"Jesus, Ali, oh, fuck," he was blubbering. She blinked up at him, very pale.

"Call a goddamn ambulance!" Connor screamed at one of the patrons of the diner.

"Ali, look at me," Jimmy was in front of her. She twisted her head around to peer at Gunnar with her suddenly glassy green eyes.

"I love you, you know that, right?" her voice was surprisingly even. Gunnar nodded helplessly, feeling his own hot tears stream down his cheeks.

"I love you, too, Ali. You're gonna be ok," he said. She swallowed hard before trying to smile.

"I got our marriage license," she said, "'S in my pocket."

"I don't need a paper to spend the rest of my life with you," he told her. She let out a laugh that turned into a cough. She was choking on her own blood.

"I'm gonna spend the rest of my life with you," she promised. He pressed a kiss to her brow.

"I know, Ali."

"Don't let this city poison you, too," she said, reaching up to cup his cheek with her bloody hand. The metal of her engagement ring was warm against his skin.

* * *

 _Present Day_

 _New Orleans, Louisiana_

"She died before the ambulance got there," Gunnar said roughly, scrubbing at his eyes. Molly blinked back her own tears.

"Oh, Gunnar," she slid over next to him and wrapped an arm around his wide shoulders. He began to cry in earnest, doubled over, his face pressed into her shirt.

The night was hot, and they were both sticky with the humidity of the swamp. He smelled like stale vodka and smoke, but Molly held him while he cried.

It took a long time, but his tears finally ran dry, and the booze caught up to him. Molly left him sprawled out on the couch, sleeping deeply.

* * *

Billy was dozing in the easy chair was she unlocked the door. Both of the dogs perked up at his feet. He stood and opened his mouth to greet her, but she just wrapped her arms firmly around his middle, pressing her face into his chest. She was shaking.

"I love you," her voice was muffled against his t shirt. He cupped the back of her head. He wasn't going to ask. Whatever had happened out in that shack was between her and Gunnar. It should stay that way.


End file.
